Fly Forward

I'm captured, disturbed, confused and fascinated by this saint.  She upset the thinking of her day and the thinking of today.  I saw a Bernini sculpture entitled, "Ecstacy of St. Teresa" during my time in Italy that has provoked me to learn more about this woman of the 14th century.  She wrote of her sensual experiences of God and the following is an account that was the inspiration for Bernini's sculpture:

"Our Lord was pleased that I should have at times a vision of this kind: I saw an angel close by me, on my left side, in bodily form. This I am not accustomed to see, unless very rarely. Though I have visions of angels frequently, yet I see them only by an intellectual vision, such as I have spoken of before.  It was our Lord's will that in this vision I should see the angel in this wise. He was not large, but small of stature, and most beautiful--his face burning, as if he were one of the highest angels, who seem to be all of fire: they must be those whom we call cherubim.  Their names they never tell me; but I see very well that there is in heaven so great a difference between one angel and another, and between these and the others, that I cannot explain it.  I saw in his hand a long spear of gold, and at the iron's point there seemed to be a little fire. He appeared to me to be thrusting it at times into my heart,  and to pierce my very entrails; when he drew it out, he seemed to draw them out also, and to leave me all on fire with a great love of God. The pain was so great, that it made me moan; and yet so surpassing was the sweetness of this excessive pain, that I could not wish to be rid of it. The soul is satisfied now with nothing less than God. The pain is not bodily, but spiritual; though the body has its share in it, even a large one. It is a caressing of love so sweet which now takes place between the soul and God, that I pray God of His goodness to make him experience it who may think that I am lying.  During the days that this lasted, I went about as if beside myself. I wished to see, or speak with, no one, but only to cherish my pain, which was to me a greater bliss than all created things could give me."

Let nothing disturb you,

Let nothing frighten you,

All things are passing away:

God alone is unchanging.

Patience obtains all things.

Whoever has God lacks nothing;

God alone suffices. - Teresa of Avila

I arrived back home in green, comfy Tennessee last night!  What a delight to come down the escalator to baggage claim to see my daughter Maggie searching expectantly up my way, waiting for my return.  I scared the fire out of her with my squeal when I caught sight of her.  I was worried my four-year-old would be hiding behind her father's legs, terrified of this stranger-mother creature who might accost her if she became too visible (Bree is very shy, you see, and she has responded that way before when I've been absent for a day or weekend).  That, however did not happen and we were quite a show of silly baffoons in the middle of the airport.

Ah, home, sweet home..... or maybe I should say, "spiked" home.  Every instance in which an Italian asked me where I was from and my answer was "Tennessee", they would look back at me with a look of recognition and say, "Oh!! Yes, Tennessee...... Jack Daniels!!"  Yes, folks, we are known and thought of rather admiringly by the Italians as the makers of stiff whiskey!  I tried to use it to my advantage toward the last day of my stay in Florence.  I found the best Cappucino makers in Florence while I was there.....Marco and Andrea were just around the corner from where I was staying (you can see pics on facebook).  I think I visited them probably twice a day.  I was in there the last day of my stay and they asked me where I was from and the usual conversation ensued.... the look of recognition, etc, etc.  I said, "Mi chiamo Segnora Daniels; il scronto, allura??" (I am Mrs. Daniels, so there is a discount for me, right??) as we were walking out.  I turned around to see Marco with a bottle of Jack Daniels inverted toward the ceiling in a motion to mimick himself chugging the bottle.  If ever you wondered what the american image is for Italians, wonder no more!

But that is not the image I have of good 'ole Tennessee.  Coming home!  There are no words that can conjour up such vivid images as "coming home".  Familiarity.  Comfort.  Knowing.  Being known.  Missing.  Being missed.  Some of the stiff, stale, oldness of daily living becomes crisp, fresh, and alluring.  The old becomes regenerated as the dust is blown off.  Coming home, in whatever state one comes, there are perpetual open arms that anticipate an embrace.  Whatever history has been written at "home", when one has been gone and returns, the history becomes null and void in the instance one arrives in the outstretched arms that await and long for the return.  The history will always have a memory, but upon the return, all history is forgotten and there is a celebration of homecoming.  The returning is exclusively sensual.... the touch of embrace, the smell of my daughter's head (there is no smell in the world that rivals the smell of my children.... Italian leather comes pretty close), the eyes full emotion and welcome, the sound of laughter and storytelling.  I know "home" has a history that brings other smells and sights and sounds that are not pleasant, but for today, "home" is joy.  Home is comfort and life and longing and all that is beautiful and right.  It's good to be home.

Being in Italy has magnified the spiritual unrest I have felt over the last couple years.  I have grown weary of  "doing church" with fellow "church doing" people who seem to have all the answers that elude me.  Inside the church walls, I feel spiritually stupid because I am still groping for answers, while others are certain they have all the questions answered.  In contrast, the older I get, the more questions I have and the less content I am with the answers that have been thrown out.  Is it not arrogant to think we can figure it all out, when those who have gone before us for centuries and centuries haven't?  What does our generation have that they didn't that we could possibly have the corner market on the knowledge of God?  I have come to the conclusion over the years that I must acquiese to the mystery.  I must find a way to make peace with a mysterious God who doesn't choose to reveal Himself fully and comprehensively.  It is a grace to find Him; a facet of Him in the breeze, in a wild animal, in a child's helplessness, in the cathedrals of Italy, in a piece of art that depicts His character in some way as to give me further knowledge of Him.  To mine the heart and character of God in one lifetime is simply impossible.  We can read what others have discovered of Him and draw our own conclusions, which is a wonderful thing to do.  We can learn from teachers and others whom God has strategically placed in our lives to see Him more clearly.  But there comes a time when, like Teresa of Avila, we want to abandon the cultural norms of what is expected of a Christian and "be" with God in a more fixed, solidified way.  Teresa describes this journey as the "Seven Mansions".  She describes God's Presence as a light in the center of the mansion...the inner room, if you will.  The first few rooms describe the life of a new, infant believer in which the inhabitant of the room is exploring and becoming familiar with the house, but stays on the outskirts.  Each room is lit by God's presence and is transformed by it, but there is also an elusiveness.  The brilliance of the center room is not readily felt in the outer rooms.  There may or may not be a desire to enter into the other rooms.  Jesus is always a gentleman.  He never demands that we get to the next room.  He gently leads us toward it, but will stay with us in whatever room we're in and give us the gift of His presence.  These rooms are not performance oriented; rather, it begs the question of how much we desire more of His presence.  I feel like I've been lingering in the closest outer room, browsing the entrance of the next room, but not daring to step.  Am I invited?  What do I have to do?  Will the brilliance of His light hurt my eyes?  Who am I to think I've been invited into a sacred burning bush moment such as this???  So, I stand tentatively, thinking the world will fall apart if I take another step. 

In a place such as Italy, the old towns have ghosts; ghosts of the sacred past.  Some of these ancient saints got it; some didn't.  I'm reminded of our faulty theology as I look at some of the art that was made.  There are paintings of coronations of Mary, "Queen of Heaven", in which, as humankind has always done, the artist and the church attempt to make the human flesh divine.  Because of such erroneous thinking coming out of the church, the climate was right for the Reformation to occur later on.  And, don't get me wrong; I am thankful for the Reformation and the fathers of protestantism.  But we left a lot of beautiful liturgy and symbolism behind in the name of Reformation.  How do you take the beauty and the truth of both of these movements (The early church/Catholicism and Protestantism) and bring them together to make a beautiful expression of worship?  The fundamental/evangelical church model is missing something today.  The modern idea of worship leaves behind a sacred, reverent and mystical experience, focusing on the consumerism mentality of our culture.  There is no time to be silent and listen to God speaking to His people.  Saints of old used to live in the desert, seeking God and listening for His voice.  Why don't we do that anymore?  Why don't we make pilgrimages and walk the labrynth in prayer or fast or give our "things" to the poor?  These are some of the questions I am asking as I think about returning home in a couple days.  I don't know what life looks like on the other side of Italy, but I know it needs to look different.  I don't know what will happen if I step into that next room, but maybe I'm getting ready.....

Well, you could mine this phrase for quite a while.  I found the phrase at the Peggy Guggenheim museum in Venice.  It was written in the form of a neon sign along the courtyard garden fence wall near the burial site of Ms. Guggenheim and her 15 dogs.  In an artistic context, I guess it could mean different things.  Maybe it means that artists themselves perish, but their works live on.  Maybe that was the intention of its meaning.  But I find it more profound to reverse the meaning.  A work of art is perishable (ask Lump, a Guggenheim dog who was said to have eaten a Picasso - I noticed Lump was not distinguished among the lucky dogs to be buried alongside their owner) and it's the artist and his soul that lives on.  Maybe the form, the tree can die; the artwork can die, but the root is eternal.  The artist returns to the ground, continuing his work in a subterreanean way.  The essence of who we are far outweights the way our essence is applied to our work.  The application of who we are is merely an expression of that essence; the essence is what remains when the applications fade away.  I think our culture can confuse these things.  We value the product rather than the human process.  I think the creative process - the human process - is what gives art such meaning.  Through art, we find ourselves.  We ask a question and seek to answer it through the creative process.  Through art, we come to understand ourselves just a little bit better, along with the world around us on a physical and spiritual level.  This happens as we explore creatively, like leaves rustling in the wind, anchored to a secure trunk which is attached to roots that dig deep.  Because of the roots that hold the structure together, the form of the tree is liberated to move and dance and flow expressively and uninhibited in the place in which it lives for a season.  This is a short season, but the leaf does what it is intended to do....and a leaf is indeed a grand thing when one thinks about all that it does in its little lifetime!  There is an intrinsic value in the root that lasts much longer than the form.  Maybe the root is our humanity and the form is our human expressions of what we think it means to be human. 

40 Ft. David today!!!  Massive!  We went to the Accademia Museum.  "The Rape of the Sabine Women" - Unbelievable!  Lots of Madonna and Child and the Crucified Christ.  There's such a thing as "Latte Madonna" which depicts Mary as a nursing mother.  They usually have her breast exposed and extended and sometimes with milk shooting out.....hmmmmm.  Not sure I get that....

I am astonished by David.  I knew I would be and I had read a lot about this immense marble sculpture and its context (Francis Schaeffer has an excellent perspective on this particular piece in his book, How Then Shall We Live?)  I knew it came from a humanistic perspective and so it is grand as the thought of the day was that humans were grand and could do anything.  As I walked through the hall toward David, the "Prisoners" captured me.....these apparently are unfinished works by Michelangelo.  They are large marble slabs with the beginnings of figures carved.  The figures look as though they are stuck in the marble, trying to get out.  As I proceeded, each "prisoner" seemed to get bigger and bigger and more refined and they lead up to David, who towers over the prisoners in his completed glory, released from the marble of his origins.  He's not marble anymore.....he has a "glorified" state, if you will.  He's David.  The prisoners are still confined to their marble cages.  And yet, the prisoners are the pieces that intrigue me most.  I think they want to be grand and glorious, at least finished, like that of their neighbor David, but their creator did not free them completely from their marble.  It looks like they are spending energy trying to get free; trying to be fully formed and not settling into the way they've been made.  The potential energy of the pieces move me.  To submit to an unfinished process; an incomplete storyline, when others seem to be complete and grandiose.....If I could see the beauty in my own unfinished process (these unfinished statues were absolutely glorious)  and relinquish whatever or whenever I think the finished product should be.  I think there is a unique beauty to the unfinished sculptures...they bring me comfort and joy and anticipation.  These sculptures reveal the creative process that Michelangelo applied as he made art.  Maybe he saw the value of the process as well.  These that went unfinished, had some problems.  There were disproportionate body parts.  One sculpture, they even questioned whether it was a work of Michelangelo or not because of the notable disproportion.  Can't a great sculptor make a bad sculpture??  (These, by the way, were not bad!!)  Why can't we think it could've been Michelangelo's flub, if indeed it really was flubacious (I just made that word up....is it a word??)  Maybe he himself was a prisoner of others' expectations of perfection.  What if we just accepted our limitations and worked within them?  The weight of trying to move or be free or be something else is crushing, especially when the Creator never intended for that weight to be carried. (Sorry, no pics allowed again).

Here, in Italy, it is very late and I should probably be in bed, since I am a walking zombie already.  But I can't.  For one thing, my body is telling me that it is 5:00 in the evening and for another thing, I'm in Florence.  Do I really want to waste my time sleeping????  Though one could make the argument that the computer screen is keeping me from the experience, blogging with you all helps me to process the things I've seen all day.  There is all the disclaimer you are going to get.

Today was a day of travel.  We packed up, got on a charter bus and headed toward the beautiful city of Florence.  It was quite a complicated day with travel, setting up internet and phone communication.  We did not see much of anything.  This experience thus far has been surprising in many ways.  You see things in textbooks and imagine what it looks like in real life and then you see it in real life and it is not even close to the imaginings!  Some things are far grander than the imagination can conceive of and some are far less.  I was really looking forward to seeing the Sistene Chapel with Michelangelo's frescos plastered all over the ceiling.  To get there, you must pass through many chapel rooms in which frescos hover endlessly.  One such room is Rafael's room and it hold the famous "School of Athens".  I didn't anticipate being so moved by that painting as I was.  That held so much wonder for me in its expression of science and reason coexisting with the sacred.  By the time I got to the Sistene Chapel (I don't have pics because it is prohibited to snap pictures in that room), it was rather anticlimatic and I was surprised at the absence of my response to it.  It must have been my tired feet and sore neck - one is constantly looking up!  I had to strain to engage with the paintings and they are so vast and the scenes so endless that it felt exhausting.  We went from there to St. Peter's cathedral, which is where I was immensely surprised.  Its beauty and grandiosity are breathtaking and the art contained within is stunning.  This is where the "Pieta" is located.  (See previous entry).

I had another surprise yesterday when we went to the Borghese museum.  I had not anticipated the mesmerizing effect of  Bernini's marble sculptures.  They were so life-like that I felt like an intruder looking upon a scene that was extremely private and intense.  Bernini was brilliant in his attempt at capturing the climax of a movement.  There was a sculpture of David in the precise moment of releasing a stone from a slingshot as he attacked Goliath.  The implied movement of the piece made me feel like I wanted to run and get out of the way....I was right in the middle of the battlefield!  I could Israelites shouting and cheering and I could hear the silence and gasp of the Philistines.  I was able to see two other Bernini sculptures with the same intense action and drama. (Again, pictures prohibited).

Upon entering Florence today, I had a sweet surprise waiting for me.  I was feeling very tired and somewhat discouraged as I felt the weight of being separated from my family.  I am one who needs solitude and quiet on a regular basis and I hadn't had my own space for 5 days.  The Lord met my need for that today.  Somehow, I ended up with my own room and a private terrace within that room where I am sitting now.  I have been craving a small, private space since I got here to think and write and pray and smoke a cigar and I landed in the only room with a terrace.  Thank you, Jesus!  The fog is lifting, it ever so slowly......

Today, I find myself reverencing God for His compassion.  On one hand, I see The Last Judgement, which was painted by Michelangelo and lives in the Sistene Chapel.  It is a terrifying scene, in which God is judging the world and present are angels, demons, saints and sinners.  Mary turns away from God, undone by His fierce wrath.  The scene is bone chilling.  I couldn't sustain a long gaze.  Contrast this with the scene I visited next.  We went directly to St. Peter's Basilica from the Sistene Chapel.  When I walked into the Basilica, I immediately felt as though I had shrunk down to the size of an ant while my surroundings enlarged.  The Basilica must have been made for giants or Avatars or something not quite human.  I felt like a hobbit in the Golden Halls of Meduseld.  There were hundreds of people in the church and yet, there was plenty of room.  I've never seen such a vast piece of architecture.  Immediately to my right as I entered, there I saw it: La Pieta.  This is a sculpture that Michelangelo did when he was about 24.  In it, he captured human sorrow and suffering.  It is a scene of Mary and Jesus.  Jesus had just died and Mary holds Him in her lap.  His body is thin and limp and sunken and all life has escaped His earthly vessel.  The face of Mary, though young and beautiful, shows sorrow and grief along with dignity and pride.  I'm not sure, as a Sculptor how you pull off showing all of those emotions in a piece of marble, but remarkably, he did and he did it well.  This piece was a marked contrast for me from what I just saw in the room previously.  In the first room I saw what I deserve.  Maybe Michelangelo saw and felt the same thing in his work; he painted himself (self-portrait) in The Last Judgement as a sort of melted skin shell.....It appears to me that he didn't consider himself as worthy to be painted among the saints.  The painting doesn't reveal all of the storyline.  La Pieta is a critical climax to it.  To have the power to deal out death and judgement as the Creator of the world does; yet, His intention is to provide a way for the undeserving ones to be His Loved ones rather than to be cast into darkness.  This is extreme mercy.  To taste death and the most severe human suffering when He could have the most divine pleasure there is only means He has been smitten by love.  He is love and He has been ensnared by His own essence. 

We can understand God because we understand something very humanly universal about this sculpture.  We understand the pain of loss; therefore, we know that God understands us because He has suffered the most excruciating kind of loss; separation from Love.  And in this sculpture, we find that Love defines mercy and mercy has defined the  judgement of God through the climax of Jesus. 

As I approached the sculpture, I took a few pictures, turned off the camera and just lingered to take it all in.  A woman came up beside me and observed the piece for a while.  She started breaking out into sobs.  I stood there quietly, holding my breath as I felt the sacredness of the moment.  I imagined what her story might be.  Maybe she loves the man that is lying there motionless in the scene and it is a reminder to her of the high cost of that love.  Maybe she understands the loss of a child through her own loss of one.  Maybe she had been the child without the love of a parent who would grieve her losses with her.  Whatever it was I saw the sacred beauty of art that has the power to move the heart of one living 500 years after its creation.  When you enter into the beauty of art, it has the power to reveal the truth and change us forever.  Another woman made the comment that God brought us Michelangelo so that Michelangelo could bring his art to us as a gift.  Michelangelo, even in his human understandings and misunderstandings about God has taught me through his art more about the God of the universe and I am different because of it.  As artists, let's pray that God would use our imaginations, intellects, skills and all that we are to bring Him glory and change the world!

Today was a busy day!  I began my day by ingesting a brilliant cup of cappucino.  I've always had a fascination with the coffee bean, but I'm not sure why I have up to this point.  I don't think I've really tasted coffee until yesterday!  Buddy the Elf is completely wrong in thinking that the world's best cup of coffee is found in NYC.  He's obviously never been to Italy.  From there, we walked to the Roman Forum.  The phrase "glorious ruins" takes on a whole new meaning for me.  This ancient place that has so many stories to tell has been built, torn down, rebuilt, rearranged, pillaged, rebuilt, rearranged, etc, etc.....much of the pieces that began in this space have been scattered and are all over Italy and beyond.  But there is enough of structure and beauty to astonish the mind.  Even in its ruinous state.  The Colosseum affirmed that way of being.  What is seen is mostly ruins.  The original structure must have been glorious, embellished with marble.......most of the marble is gone and what remains is the skeleton essentially.  The skeleton is very beautiful and massive, even in its ruins.  There is something very disturbing and hopeful and eerie and mysterious about the sight of these tangible memories.  We know something happened in this space.....we know a lot of what happened, but there's even more we don't know.  Apply this space to your own story.  You started out in a glorious state; the state of being.  You knew how to love God and receive His love.  You were glorious!  Something terrible happened; some sort of pillage, betrayal and separation.  The marble was stolen and disseminated elsewhere.  All that is left is the structure.  The beautiful, moss-covered, worn structure with hints of the past.....a memory of a grandiose time.  The ruins have something of potential energy that wasn't there before.  We're waiting for something big to come.  Something beyond anything this space has been before.  The ruins become beautiful because there is something else for it to be.  The hope lies in the mortar of the unknown past that adheses the hidden future.  Something wants to be made; something glorious and free and exceptional that our eyes have never seen before.  Potential energy becomes kinetic.  Our story moves toward that unfolding.  Our story moves toward housing something that is much more important and profound than entertaining gladiator fights that create new widows and orphans.  With the rebuilding comes a different way of being and relating and doing....it is that big....it is that profound.....

This is the Colosseum, what's left of the floor, or really, underneath the floor.  This is underground and there used to be flooring to cover this space.  This is where the Gladiators fought each other and wild animals like lions and tigers.

This is part of the Roman Forum, Capitoline Hill.

It is evening here in Rome, so I've titled this entry "Good Night", for I shall go to bed after I share with you a little bit about my new love; my new fascination, my new intrigue!  Rome at night!  So, while most of you who read this are on the other side of the world having the sun bathe your space, here, the sun has retired and the lights twinkle and light up the city, showing the sheen of the rain upon every surface, giving it an even more radiant glow.  I walk down a city cobblestone street lined with shops, cafes, hotels and restaurants, trying to keep my daughter's camera from getting wet while licking the seam of my pistacchio gelato in a cone before it drips down my hand and to my elbow.  Fixated on my tasks and not wanting to miss any of the loveliness of the people, the language, the architecture, I pull my eyes from my balancing act in time to look up and see, just as it would've appeared as in a mirage, the Pantheon!  One minute I'm walking in between buildings on a cobblestone road and the next moment, I'm standing before this outstanding, massive scale structure that literally caused my gelato to fall from its nest of a cone and land at my feet.  The size of this mammoth building is not something that can be captured on film.  When you see it in real life and up close, all you can do is lose balance and drop the most amazing pistacchio ice cream you've ever tasted.  The view before me made the sting of losing my dessert a bit more palatable.

Our first evening meal out was out of this world!  I ordered Ravioli con crema di succo, otherwise called Ravioli with cream and Pumpkin....sounds strange, but it was spectacular!  I'll show you a picture of the dish when I can post it.  It was accompanied with a house Chianti.  My first taste of the wine probably sat on my tongue for 20 seconds, I could not get over the wonderful, full-bodied taste of it.  After dinner I had the best cappucino I ever had.  I don't know how I could ever have my coffee obsession satiated by Starbucks after today.  I had the pleasure of speaking to our waiter in Italian and asking him to bring the bill.  I think I was interpretable, since he honored my request.  As we were leaving the restaurant, the chef came out and asked us how everthing was.  He singled me out and gave me his chef hat (what is that thing called????) and kissed me on each side of my cheek.......3-4 times.  We got pictures!  He was the picture of kindness and a picture of classic Italian culture. 

Tomorrow, we have a most intensive day; we will visit the Roman Forum, the Colosseum, Trajan's Column, the Arch of Titus, and several other sites that are located in and around the Forum......will check in again tomorrow.....

Just want to check in.  I have arrived in Italy.  it is almost 2:00 in the afternoon on Saturday.  We're getting ready to head out into downtown Rome - the old part - to explore.  All is well....it was a long trip, but we are here, I've napped and showered and am ready to look for the presence of God in this city!  More later.